Monday, April 20, 2009

Chilly Billy

Twas a freezy-squeezy morning and the entire world had froze
Billy’s bed was toasty – but icy was his nose.
The wind wooshed wet and rainy globs against the window in his room
He decided at age 25 he would leave his blankety cocoon.
Mother murmured words of pancakes and golden syrup galore
So Billy stretched a foot out and touched a toe onto the floor.

His big toe was now as freezing as could be!

A warm bed adrift in a sea of cold – whatever would he do?
Billy phoned the rescue helicopter crew.

A whickety-whackety of chopper noise arrived there in great haste
And threw Billy a bright red string to tie around his waist.
The helicopter wynched him up and up into the sky
Swinging him through the clouds with seagulls passing by.

They lowered him down and down as soon as they were able
And set him gently on ten pancakes at the breakfast table.

The pilot said “don’t hesitate to call on us once more
If you need to get to breakfast without touching the floor!”

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Museum of Impractical Inventions

Introducing the Pea Fork, invented in 1709 by Percy Peasnabber in an attempt to prong more peas than the average utensil. Unfortunately the market for such a fork did not eventuate as no person actually owned a mouth 4 inches wide to wrap around the fork (Steve Tyler and Mick Jagger were not born until the 1900's).


Sunday, April 5, 2009

A Gang Of Goats from Gore

Okay, so the other day I was talking to my mate about her hometown of Gore (in the South Island of New Zealand)....and then the goats came to visit in a moment of inspiration.... (for those of you outside NZ a "Morepork" is a native New Zealand owl)

The wild goats of Gore
A small gang of four
Rose early at noon
And fought for the spoon

Six eggs they would scramble
And garnish with bramble
Being clean out of bread
They ate the table instead

With nowhere to play cards
They ran out to the yard
To chase bumblebees
And chew down large trees

And come half past four
There was a knock at the door
The knock made it fall
Because they'd eaten the wall

And there stood a guy
With a glint in his eye
The goats struck a frown
Twas the butcher from town!

Renowned for goat pies
He yelled "Run for your lives!!"
Without packing suitcases
Or farewell embraces
And having no wheels
They took to their heels
There was no dilly-dally
As they ran for the valley
Eighty miles east of town
They laid themselves down

They kicked off their shoes
For a much needed snooze

And in the valley that night
As the Morepork took flight
A small gang of four
Vowed to stay out of Gore.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Post-a-thon - In memory of March

Somebody stole March - I dont know where it went. Here is an almighty catchup of long overdue posting of the random things that have come to mind lately....